


Blood

by orphan_account



Series: My Boys Need A Damn Break [8]
Category: I Medici | Medici: Masters of Florence (TV)
Genre: Character Death, This was in my drafts, Violence, but not too graphic i don't think, but thats why its shit because it wasn't finished so i just quickly rounded it off, so im uploading it to get rid of it lol, sorry - Freeform, you'll know which one if you've seen 2x08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23126986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Giuliano was dying and Lorenzo had left him.
Relationships: Giuliano de' Medici & Lorenzo "Il Magnifico" de' Medici
Series: My Boys Need A Damn Break [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1366057
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Blood

**Author's Note:**

> I was angsty as shit, huh

Time screeched to a halt, violent and sudden, leaving Lorenzo's head ringing. 

_ Drip. _

_ Drip. _

_ Drip. _

He could see each drop of blood fall, perfect spheres colliding with the old, oak floors under gravity's cruel hand, almost in slow motion. 

Francesco had  _ stabbed  _ him.

He could hear his breath, ragged and pained, deafeningly loud in his ear as the world fell silent, narrowing down to Giuliano and Vespucci as Vespucci drew near. 

No.

No, this couldn't be real. It  _ couldn't,  _ Francesco would never- he wouldn't- he  _ couldn't.  _

It couldn't be real, because Giuliano couldn't be dying, not his brother, his sweet, underdog of a brother, not at Vespucci's vengeful hand.

No.

No, no, no, no,  _ no. _

He flinched with each sickening thrust of the dagger, each jerk of Giuliano’s body. 

" _ Giuliano! _ " 

He scrambled to his brother, hands reaching for him, hands that had always reached for him, cradling his hair, smoothing his hair back. “Giuliano,” he sobbed, voice horrid and broke, choking on his tears. “No, no, no, no, no.”

He bent almost double, pressing his forehead to his brother’s  _ begging _ ; begging Giuliano to stay, begging God not to take him. “Giuliano,” he whimpered. 

But Francesco was advancing and he had to leave, he had to leave his brother to die alone and the thought broke him, made him want to rage and raze the cathedral to the ground if it would kill those responsible, but he couldn’t. He  _ couldn’t _ , because he ran. 

He ran, and he left his brother, broken and bleeding, to die.

He left him, and he would never forgive himself. 


End file.
